


Dream A Little Dream

by Sairyn



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Fate, Ghosts, M/M, Marvey Fic Challenges, Supernatural Elements, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 08:49:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8439187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sairyn/pseuds/Sairyn
Summary: Harvey moves into a new home. Turns out it sort of haunted. Too bad Harvey doesn't believe in things that go bump in the night. Although when true love and fate get involved, he just might change his mind.





	

“Are you sure you want to look here? I mean, I found a whole list of apartments for you to look at. In the heart of the city with great views. Everything you said you were looking for.”

Harvey ignores her.  Not that she doesn't make a valid point. That is what he said he was looking for when he first decided to purchase. Harvey always pictured himself living in some swanky condo, or high rise right in the middle of the city with the view from every window. This, this little brownstone set of apartments, away from all the hustle and bustle, is anything but that. If it wasn't for the magazine that had just happened to find its way to his mailbox instead of whoever this M. Ross person it was addressed to, he wouldn't have ever added it to the list. He just happened to flip through the pages while sitting in traffic. That's when he came across the article highlighting the property he was standing in front of. It was nothing special to look at. Just an ordinary multilevel brownstone. It was featured in the magazine as part of dwellings in the area that were supposedly haunted. Harvey remembers chuckling to himself when he read it. Nonetheless, something about it captivated Harvey, for reasons he couldn't explain. Deciding to take the afternoon off, he rang up his realtor and set up the appointment.

Harvey notices the realtor is still talking, nervousness making her babble quickly.

“Is there some reason you don't want to show me this property?” Harvey interrupts, tired of listening to excuses.

“Well, Mr. Specter. Um”, she hesitates. “I don't know if you are aware but there has been talk.”

“Go on. And.”

“And well, some would say it's haunted.”

“Haunted?” he repeats.

She stays silent.

“And you believe this?”  he inquires.

“Well. Not that I believe the rumors, but I can say that it has..,” she stammers.

“Look, if you don't want to show me the place that's fine, I can find another realtor.”

“I can guarantee that won't be necessary, Mr. Specter. I just wanted to make sure I inform you so you have all the information,” she bristles, her tone curt.

Harvey laughs out loud at that.

“In that case, shall we go in?” he asks, enjoying watching the fear run across his realtor’s face.

“If you're… I mean, yes, of course.”

She unlocks the keypad and retrieves the key, her hands expertly unlocking the door to the entry way. Harvey stops and looks at the stairs going to the upper apartments.

“How many people live upstairs?”

“Huh, what?” she asks, fiddling with the lock.

“How many apartments are upstairs?” he repeats.

“Well, originally there were three apartments upstairs, but it was also remodeled into one.” She finally gets the door open and stands aside.

“But you don't have to worry about that- no one has lived there in several years. Belongs to the property owner, but she moved away several years ago, poor dear became despondent after losing her son and his wife in a car crash. Refused to sell the place though. Supposedly she is the last descendant from the original owners.”

Harvey waits patiently for her to finish her latest tale, all the while willing himself not to roll his eyes. When Harvey walks inside, he shudders. Something feels right and wrong at the same time. Immediately the realtor Kathy, Karen or whatever her name is starts rambling again.

“Now the entire first floor has been completely redone, new floors, restructured areas to create a more open floor plan. There are tons of windows and natural light...”

Harvey is barely paying attention, engrossed by the sights in front of him; the large living room and kitchen is the first thing that catches his eyes. With it being unfurnished Harvey is surprised that it is a whole lot larger than he first thought when they pulled up to the property. He slowly strolls over to the bar that separates the living area from the professional looking kitchen complete with shiny new chrome appliances.

 _It's perfect_ he thinks, shocked that he could think that within seconds of being inside.

“... the large master bedroom and en-suite and two other bedrooms that can be converted to an office or den…”

Harvey walks into the master bedroom and a sense of vertigo makes him sway slightly on his feet. His skin feels hot, and he is dizzy. He closes his eyes but when he reopens them, the rooms look different. It is smaller and gauzy as if washed in faded colors. Harvey squints and can make out what looks to be silhouettes. A four poster bed, a modest table with a wash bowl sitting on top of it. He can make out faint voices, soft laughter coming from a corner. If he believed in things that went bump in the night, Harvey might have described it as walking in on a memory or a flashback; one from a different time and place. But he doesn't believe in things like that; at least not anymore.

When Harvey was young, he had nightmares. Vivid dreams of monsters and ghosts that whispered to him, called to him. Most nights he would wake up screaming into the night. Sometimes they wouldn't scare him, embrace him in feelings of love, but most times there was some sort of horrific scene playing out around him. Like the one where he watched as some woman stabbed a man in front of him. Sometimes he was the man. Other times he saw people die in car crashes. But like most children he grew out of them. Now Harvey is a man that deals with facts. Facts that can be seen, heard and, more importantly, verified. That's what makes him a great assistant DA, and what will make him even more successful when he starts his new position in one of the top law firms next month. He blinks a few more times and the room looks like it did when he first walked in. He would like to chalk it up to an active imagination, but he can still make out the faint sounds of a melody he just can't place. The realtor’s voice brings him out of his thoughts.

“The closet is huge and on the other side...”

“I'll take it,” he blurts out, again surprising himself. This is not like him. He hasn't even seen the entire place. But he doesn't take it back, he just can't seem to make the words fall from his lips that he needs more time, needs to look around more. No. Something inside of him knows this is right. So he goes with it.

“Mr. Specter, are you sure?” she questions, a confused look on her face. “Why don't you let me show you some other places before you make your decision? We can go back into the city, there are some great condos in mid-Manhattan, that I am positive you will just love.”

Harvey takes a deep breath and looks at her sternly. “I appreciate it, but I am willing to put down an offer today. Right now.”

“Looks like you have found your home, Mr. Specter. I will get started on the paperwork today.”

And something about those words touch Harvey. He can't understand what makes him feel so sure about his decision, but he knows it's right. From the moment he walked in he knew this was the place- this was his home. He feels warmth blossom like the sun in his chest and for one brief moment he feels a rush of emotion that feels like something that has been missing in his life for years; something he no longer believes in. It feels like love.

The first time he sees **_her_ ** is the day he is moving in. He’s been directing the movers for the last couple of hours; showing them where he wants his furniture. As he steps outside, and sees her standing across the street, watching him. She looks to be about 60. She is wearing a simple dress and shawl, holding on to an elegant cane. Harvey quickly dismisses her, thinking she is just another nosey neighbor. Probably wondering like most, who is it that has braved to buy the apartments that have been empty for so long. 3301 Chilton St is famous, or maybe the correct word is infamous. Strange happenings, weird noises, and even ghosts have been “reported.” None of that phases Harvey; he doesn't believe in things like that- no matter what happened that day he saw the place for the first time. Harvey smiles politely at her, reminding himself to be respectful. She smiles back and toddles over to where he is. Trapped, Harvey waits until she finally gets to him, his father’s voice ringing in his ear. Always respect your elders.

“Hello,” he greets, when she finally gets to him.

“Hello dear. I’m so glad you've finally made it,” she smiles.

 _Great, she's crazy_ too, he thinks.

“Excuse me?”

“Here. We heard the place was sold and you know how neighborhood talk is, all whispers and speculation. Silly women who prefer to sit around and gossip instead of getting some balls and actually walk outside.”

Harvey laughs out loud then, feeling an immediate kinship to the spunky woman in front of him.

“My name is Edith, by the way.”

“Well Edith, I’m…”

“Harvey Specter. Yes dear, I know.”

Harvey frowns, unsure of what to make about her knowing his name.

“You do?” he questions inquisitively.

“Well, yes. I may be old, but that doesn't mean I don't have eyes or ears. Not to mention the fact that if you ask nicely, people will tell you almost anything." She leans a bit closer and whispers, "...even things they shouldn't. Oh, and your realtor can't stop blabbing about the fact she sold this place. Quite the coup, you know,” she winks.

“Have you lived in the neighborhood long?”

“Oh, I have lived here forever. It's a quiet neighborhood for the most part. Nice people, mostly keeping to themselves.”

Harvey watches as she stares up at the place with a distant look in her eyes.

“It’s been quite a long time since I was inside.”

“Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee? That is probably the one thing I can actually get to.”

“I would love to. Thank you, Harvey.”

She follows inside the large doors, stopping briefly at the stairs that lead to the upstairs apartment. Harvey turns to warn her to be careful and catches her smile as she pats the bannister. Once inside, Harvey pours her a cup, apologizing for the lack of cream, although he did manage to find sugar in the same box he found the coffee in.

“I take it black,” she responds easily. “You know this kitchen used to be a lot smaller. In fact this whole room used to be three separate spaces.”

“Sounds like you knew the previous owners. Was that before or after the ghosts showed up?” he lightly teases.

“Now Harvey, don't tell me you believe in all those rumors?” she smiles devilishly.

“I can assure you that I don't believe in ghosts or anything else of the sort. I am just curious.”

“Oh yes. I knew them all.”

Harvey is ready to ask if she also knew or knows the upstairs tenant, but she continues.

“Tragic, all that happened here.”

“What happened here?”

“What didn't happen? Unfortunately this place has seen its share of heartbreak and pain.”

“From the tragic car crash that took the life of a young family's infant son, to a different family dying and leaving their child alone to grow up feeling lost and abandoned. Then there was the time the place burned when a couple in a drunken rage fought and accidentally set the place on fire with a candle, leaving their two young sons behind. But to me, the most tragic event these walls witnessed was the murder of two young men.”

That got Harvey’s attention. “Murder? In all the research I did, I never came across that information.”

“Yes, well, it isn't talked about much anymore. Was quite the scandal back in the day. Story goes, there was a young man who would visit his lover here. That would be newsworthy alone, but even more so, since the young man's caller was another young gentleman. Now you have to remember that this was quite a long time ago- and the idea of two men together brought out the worst in some.”

 _Still does_ , Harvey thinks, remembering all the years he hid that side of himself from others.

“Now, these two men were in love, but that didn't matter. The gentleman caller who came to visit was promised to another. A fine standing woman in the community. Despite that, what he felt for this young man was stronger than what he felt for her and so he attempted to annul their arrangement. A truth she did not take kindly to. On the day they were to be married, he didn't show. Instead he came here to profess his undying love to the man he didn't want to live without. Unfortunately, she followed him. When she caught him in the arms of his lover, something inside of her snapped. In a fit of rage, she murdered them in their bed; stabbed them both until they were unrecognizable.”

Harvey shivers, involuntarily.

“Like I said, this place has seen more than its share of tragedy. But that's all in the past now,” she smiles.

She drains the last of her coffee and rises.

“Thank you for the coffee, Harvey. I’m absolutely positive you are going to be happy here.”

Harvey escorts her to the door and watches as she walks down the drive, a smile on her face. Just as she reaches the end of the stairs he remembers that he wanted to ask about the upstairs neighbors. He is about to call back out to her, but his phone buzzing in his pocket distracts him. He quickly grabs it and swipes ignore. When he looks back up she is gone.

 _Guess she can move fast when she wants to_ , he muses. He walks back inside and continues to unpack.

By the time Harvey falls into his bed, he is bone weary. He falls asleep instantly, but something stirs him awake- creaking from the ceiling above. At first he thinks he is back in his dingy apartment, the upstairs neighbors stomping around. But then he remembers where he is, and quickly after, his realtor telling him no one has been living upstairs. Immediately, Harvey is wide awake, his guard up. He listens intently. The creaking continues, the pressure of weight on wood- footsteps. Convinced that there is indeed a person upstairs Harvey gets out of bed and grabs one of his bats, heading towards the front door. He briefly thinks about calling the police, but talks himself out of it. What if indeed it is the owner, he rationalizes.

After exiting his apartment, Harvey pauses at the edge of the stairs. He waits a breath, trying to decide if this is indeed a good idea, but the noises seem to be getting louder. Bat in hand, he climbs the stairs. When he reaches the door that mirrors his own, he knocks. The door is ajar. A smart man would turn around and head back downstairs at this point. A superstitious man would run. Harvey, at the moment is neither. Because the chords of a melody catch his attention.

_"Stars shining bright above you_

_Night breezes seem to whisper I love you_

_Birds singing in the sycamore tree_

_Dream a little dream of me"_

 

For some reason he can't explain, Harvey walks through the door into the room. His body immediately grows hot, a wave of dizziness makes him reach out for something to steady himself on and he closes his eyes. When he opens them again, the room looks like the one he saw the first time he came to visit. Smaller. _Didn't his realtor tell him that this apartment was remodeled in the exact same floor plan as his?_ The rational part of his brain tries to tell him. Too bad his eyes are showing him something different. He sees the sparse wood furniture, a gramophone in the corner and the candles giving off soft light. He reaches out to touch the old record player, the source of the music, but finds he is unable to gasp it. He watches with astonishment as his hand floats through it. The music stops all of a sudden and muffled voices catch Harvey's attention, behind the far door. And just like before, Harvey feels compelled to follow the sound. This door is slightly open as well. Harvey peeks inside and see two men; one facing him, the other not.

“You came,” says the man Harvey can see, who has blond hair.

“Of course I came,” his companion answers. “I told you I would.”

“I wasn't sure. I thought maybe…” Harvey watches as the young man drops his head, seemingly ashamed of his doubts.

“I love you. I don't ever want to be without you,” the hidden man pulls the blond man into his arms.

“I love you too.”

The music starts up again and Harvey finally places the tune. ‘Dream a Little Dream’.

“Know this. I'll always come home to you.” The faceless man murmurs as they begin to sway to the tune.

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

“I promise. Now, I think, I would like to undress you, with your permission of course.”

“Always.”

 _Oh shit_ , Harvey starts. He turns to leave, but something or someone catches the corner of his eye. It starts as a wisp, diaphanous in form. As whatever it is comes closer to where he stands, Harvey can tell it is a woman; a woman with wild eyes. And in her grasp, a knife. He watches as she walks toward him, feels the whoosh of air as she rushes past him, seemingly through him. She didn't see him, didn't register his presence. A shrieking scream makes Harvey rush back into what he assumes is the bedroom. Harvey’s eyes can't comprehend the scene in front of him. The two men are tangled together on a rod iron bed. And the woman, the woman who walked past him moments before, is standing above them, bringing the knife down on the two of them while screaming.  

“He’s mine!” she yells.

Harvey drops the bat. He wants to stop the horror that is taking place in front of him, but he is unable to move, his feet frozen in place. He tries screaming but no sound comes out. It’s as if he has no choice but to stand there frozen and watch the scene play out in front of him. The woman takes out her rage on the two men and the bed soon turns crimson. It seems to take forever, but soon the men stop moving and their eyes grow glassy. Harvey fights the dizziness and nausea that overcomes him at the sight. He wants to close his eyes, to convince himself this is not real, but the stench of death permeates his nose. The room starts to spin and before Harvey can take another breath, his eyes close and he falls.

When he wakes his body is twisted in his own bed sheets, his t-shirt stuck to his skin by a layer of sweat. Jolting upright, Harvey tries to slow his pounding heart while taking in deep lungfuls of air. _He is not afraid. He is not afraid dammit!_ It was just a dream brought on by the stories the old woman told him. That's all, nothing more than a dream. He drags himself to the bathroom, he doesn't notice the bat he keeps behind the bedroom door is missing. 

Harvey’s day at the office is filled with fits and starts. He is having a hard time concentrating, his brain replaying the graphic scene from his nightmare over and over. He is so distracted his asshole of a boss sends him home. Disgusted in himself, he grabs some files and leaves. He goes to see a client, then finds a quiet place to do some research for a case and then to a local bar as the afternoon winds down. The one place he doesn't go is home. _Get it together, Specter_ , he tells himself before finishing his drink. Gathering his resolve, Harvey pays his tab and stops by the store to pick up some things he didn't think were important when he moved and heads back home. As he walks up towards his stoop, he sees Edith standing there, waiting for him. She is the last person he wants to see. As he gets closer he can see her holding something.

“Hello, Harvey,” she greets. “I just wanted to pop by and drop this off for you. A little welcome to the neighborhood treat. I probably shouldn't brag, but I make a mean coconut cream pie. Of course, it's not bragging if it is true.”

Harvey laughs, the tension draining away from him. “Hello there, Edith. A whole pie for me? Might ruin my girlish figure,” he jokes, all of a sudden feeling at ease.

“Well, I promise I won't tell anyone,” she winks.

“Would you like to come inside and have a slice with some coffee? I sure would hate to enjoy this alone.”

“Now that you mention it, I could go for a slice of pie. And coffee sounds wonderful.”

Maybe he will get around to asking her about the upstairs owners or tenants this time, he tells himself. Harvey adjusts his groceries so he can take the pie from her.

“I've got it, you have got enough in your hands,” she scolds.

Harvey lets them both in and heads to the kitchen where he quickly puts on a pot of coffee. While Harvey puts away the groceries, Edith serves them both a slice of pie.

“Edith, this has got to be the best damn pie I’ve ever eaten,” Harvey moans after taking a bite.

“Told you so.”

Harvey pours them both another cup of coffee, while Edith serves him another helping of pie. He feels full and more relaxed than he has felt all day.

“You know,” he starts. “You caused me to lose sleep last night, young lady,” he teases.

“I did?” she answers coyly. “Now don't tell me you are already having dreams about me. We just met.”

He chuckles lightly, unsure if he should tell her. He stays silent a moment longer.

“Harvey, what is it, dear?” Her voice takes on the tone of concern, and Harvey can't stop the story from pouring out of him. How he dreamt about the couple she told him about. She listens quietly, not once interrupting. He watches several emotions fall across her features. The way her eyes twinkle when he tells her of the love they professed, how they promised to always find their way back to each other. And then profound sadness and fear as he replayed the murder- without all the gory details.

“It was just a nightmare, Edith, but it sure did feel real at the time,” he confesses.

She reaches out to place a hand across his, but stops herself.

“Harvey? Do you believe in fate?” she asks innocently.

“Can't say I do.”

“Well I do, so listen up.”

“I believe that strong emotions leave an imprint. Sometimes it's a feeling, other times a stain. Souls carry that with them throughout time. There are some things, good, bad or indifferent that happen that are meant to happen and other times not. In other words, when fate is interrupted, it keeps trying to repair the mistake. It may take a moment, a lifetime or maybe even several. But when something is meant to be, nothing can stop it from finding its way to be. Take those two boys. They loved each other so much they were willing to risk everything just to be together. In their time, it cost them their lives. But what if that love was fated? What if it was meant to be and the tragedy that fell upon them wasn't supposed to happen? Then those two souls would spend lifetime after lifetime trying to find their way back to each other.”

Harvey listens intently. And though he himself doesn't believe in her version of fate or true love, he is not about to tell her that.

“That could be,” he pauses. “Or maybe sometimes crap happens. I have seen a lot of good people that still either end up doing something bad or having something bad happen to them. Maybe it’s just blind luck,” he murmurs softly.

She smiles knowingly. “Maybe. Or maybe not. No matter. Hopefully you will soon settle in and be sleeping like a baby. Well, I have taken up enough of your time. I am glad you enjoyed the pie. Thank you for letting me visit, Harvey; for inviting me in. Opening the door is always the first step. Remember that for me.”

“Can I pack you up some pie?” Harvey deflects.

“No, no, I have to watch my girlish figure,” she laughs.

Edith rises to go. Harvey gets up, intent on walking her to the door.

“Harvey, you don't have to worry about me. I can always make it back home. Besides, you have to clean up.”

“I hardly call having to wash two plates and cups cleaning up.”

"Be that as it may. I’m just going to run along.”

As she grabs the door she turns back around to face him. “It was really nice meeting you, Harvey. I am glad you finally made it here. It's been a long time…” She looks around the place, her eyes shining with what appears to be unshed tears. “…a very long time since this place has been lived in.”

“You are welcome anytime, Edith.”

Harvey watches her walk out, hears the door shut behind her and can't help but think the room seems a little darker without her in it. He knows he should get started on some work, but his dream still nags at him. He has to check, has to be sure. Walking out his door, Harvey heads up the stairs. He knocks on the door and waits. No answer. Before leaving he tentatively reaches out and grasps the doorknob, twisting it. Locked. Satisfied, he retreats back downstairs and heads back into the kitchen. After washing the dishes, he pours himself another cup of coffee, grabs his files and heads into his office to work.

When Harvey can work no longer, he heads to bed. He is not thinking of the nightmare that haunted his day, instead his thoughts turn to Edith’s strange words. Her thoughts on love and life are foreign to him. Harvey views love as something that is temporary, transient. Not anywhere close to the all-powerful sort of magical thing that Edith describes. But then again, he hasn't experienced anything other than that, so how would he know any different. He drifts to sleep easily. 

When Harvey wakes again, the moon is still high in the sky. Once again he hears the familiar tune, calling to him like a Siren’s song. And just like before, he finds himself walking out of his front door and up the stairs. The door is slightly ajar, and Harvey crosses the threshold. The room looks as it did last night; out of time. When Harvey reaches the inner door, he sees his bat lying abandoned on the floor. He listens intently, certain that what he is witnessing is not a dream. The scene starts off the same. He sees the two men, hears the soft declarations of love. Then he feels the same rush of anger from the woman, watches the bloody knife take the lives of the lovers huddled together in the bed. And just like the night before, when the scene is over, he falls where he stands. When he wakes, he is in his own bed downstairs, clutching at the sheets.

It happens again the next night. Then the night after that and the one after that. Each time Harvey wakes to the sound of music, travels up the stairs and stands witness to the declarations of love, and to the gruesome murders without being able to to do anything to stop them. Only to wake every morning back in his bed. This strange nightmare is consuming him. He is having trouble concentrating, having trouble eating and sleeping is quickly becoming a distant memory. It doesn't matter if he falls asleep in his bed, his couch or even his office. Somehow this horror keeps finding him, dragging him to bear witness to the tragedy that took away this couple’s happiness.

Each day after work, Harvey looks for Edith, hoping to find out more about what happened that night and hopefully how to stop it repeating on an endless loop in his own head. But each day she is not there. Harvey has no clue as to where she lives, how to reach her, hell, he doesn't even know her last name. After two weeks, Harvey has had enough. He is beyond tired, beyond cranky, even his best friend has told him to get his shit together and Harvey sets out to take care of this one way or another. When he gets home from work he changes into some sweats and a t-shirt, heads upstairs to the apartment above him. He quickly checks the handle and verifies it is still locked. Harvey moves into the corner and sits, intent on stopping the scene before it gets started. Nothing happens the first hour, or the second. The fading sun gives way to dusk, then darkness. Hour three, nothing happens. As hour four starts to roll around, Harvey hears the snick of a lock being turned and the small creak of the door being opened slightly. He rises from his crouch and waits to see if anyone will exit. Ella’s voice starts to filter out to his ears.

 _Now or never, Specter_ , he tells himself.

Harvey walks slowly to the door, pausing briefly before he walks through. When he emerges on the other side, he waits while his body adjusts to walking into whatever the hell this is- _time vortex or dream,_ his subconscious whispers. But this night, instead of his vision being fuzzy or hazy, it's clear. He can see the same simple furnishings, the candles burning brightly- but now he can also touch them; something he hasn't been able to do before. He walks until he finds the source of the music; an old gramophone or record player, spinning softly in the corner. He hears shuffling in the room off to the side. He walks towards it. As he is about to grab for the knob, the door opens.

Harvey is met by the young man he has seen every night since he has moved in. Up close Harvey can tell he's in his mid twenties. Sandy blond hair sits atop a slight frame and he has a pair of gorgeous blue eyes that startle and grow wide when they focus on his own.

“You came.”

Harvey freezes, unsure of what to do. Every other time he has been here, he has gone unseen, been unable to be heard.

Harvey opens his mouth to speak, and wonders if tonight his voice will work, or will he be relegated to once again being a mute observer. The young man continues to stare at him, waiting for a response.

“I’m sorry? Can you see me?” Harvey tries to asks, confused by the same opening line he has heard every night for the past week being directed at him. He hears his voice come through loud and clear.

“Of course I can see you. Did you come straight from the chapel? You look….different. Not that I am upset by this. I just. I just thought you would be saying your vows about now.” The stranger's voice is soft, but cautious, as if afraid of the next words he may hear.

“You must be mistaken, I am not…,” Harvey watches as the eyes in front of him grow sad, before dropping his head as he starts to explain.

He reaches up to grasp the stranger’s chin, pulling those blue eyes shining with tears back to meet his own.

“Hey, listen to me. I am not who you think I am. Your love, your true love, he is on his way here.”

“What game are you playing? You **_are_ ** here. I am looking right at you. If you wanted to break my heart you could have just gone through with your vows. Was it really necessary to destroy me more by coming here tonight, pretending to be someone else?” he cries.

“I promise you, I am not pretending. He is coming, but so is his….” They are interrupted by the sudden appearance of another.

“I'm here, my…” the voice is behind him, but Harvey instantly recognizes it as the young man’s lover. He turns around, wondering if by chance the other man can see him as well, and finds himself staring at his own eyes. It’s him, but at the same time not him.

In that instant the room dips and sways, making Harvey dizzy. His brain frantically tries to wrap itself around this new information. What he has been experiencing aren't dreams he realizes, they are memories. His memories. It's him, who the young man is waiting for. Or rather, this time's version of Harvey.

“You both have to leave,” Harvey wheezes, falling to the floor. “She is coming, your wife to be. She is going to kill you; both of you.”

Harvey sees the other version of himself go to the arms waiting for him. They kiss tenderly before turning to face him.

“We know,” the blond man replies. “In this time, we are not meant to last. She will come and take from us our bodies, but what she can't kill is our love. Remember that, Harvey. Love is greater than all of the other stuff, greater than time itself. We wanted, no, _needed_ you to see; to believe, so you would open yourself up to it again.”

Harvey’s chest hurts, each breath getting harder and harder to take.

“Are you ready to go home, love?” the younger man asks, turning and smiling at his lover.

“I’ll always come home to you”, Harvey’s doppelganger answers.

Harvey’s vision starts to dim. He can no longer see them clearly, their bodies disappearing before his eyes. But as darkness encroaches on his consciousness, he can just make out the last part of the song.

_"Sweet dreams 'til sun beams find you_

_Sweet dreams that leave our worries behind you_

_But in your dreams, whatever they be_

_Dream a little dream of me”_

 

When Harvey wakes, he is once again in his bed and his first thought is that his head is pounding. He slowly rises, still in his sweats and tee from last night and pads to the kitchen in search of a cup of sanity or coffee, whichever comes first. The events of the previous night play in an endless loop inside his brain. _But it truly couldn't have happened._ Right? He asks himself. He considers for a brief moment calling his realtor back, telling her he changed his mind. Either that or finding a shrink. But Harvey knows he is in the middle of a fight and he refuses to quit until either he is beat or he wins. More pounding filters in from above. Harvey stops and looks at the ceiling, as if he can stare through cement. He can hear footsteps and furniture being moved. These, Harvey reminds himself, are facts, they are real. He decides to go and see for himself. He grabs his phone and sticks it in his pocket. As he exits the door he stumbles over something; a pie. Harvey grabs it and continues up the stairs to meet his new neighbor. When he sees the door is open wide, he peeks in. The room looks exactly like his own. Gone is the small room with sparse, meager furnishings. There is only open space and bright sun casting beautiful light.

“Hello, anyone here?” he calls out, not wanting to scare someone.

“Back here,” another voice calls out.

Harvey follows the sound to one of the bedrooms. He sees a young man bent over, turning the handle of what looks to be an old gramophone.

“Hi, sorry to bother you” he interrupts.

The young man stands up, nearly knocking over the antique. When he turns around Harvey finds himself staring into a pair of familiar blue eyes. The young man smiles softly.

“No bother. Hi. I'm Mike Ross,” he says, extending his hand.

Harvey feels like he has been punched in the gut. He sucks in a quick breath and can't stop the feeling that his whole world is shifting. For a brief moment he can tell if he is awake or is this another weird dream. He blinks a few times trying to gain his composure.

“Harvey Specter,” he replies, shaking the young man’s hand.

“Harvey Specter the Assistant D.A.?”

“Yeeeesss,” Harvey responds cautiously.

“Sorry, eidetic memory. I was flipping through a magazine that was highlighting ‘haunted properties’,” he air quotes. “And this place was listed in it, so I wanted to see what it said about my family home. On the next page was an article about some big case and your name was mentioned along with the District Attorney. Weird right? Anyway, you said you're my downstairs neighbor? I wasn't aware that the apartments downstairs sold.”

 _M. Ross._ Harvey remembers the magazine that led him here. “Yes, I moved in a couple of weeks ago.”

“Strange we haven't run into each other. But no matter.” He turns back around and turns a few more cranks on the handle before setting the needle down on the record.

Harvey knows before it starts, what he will hear. This time, when the song starts, it's Mama Cass’s version that belts out from the small speaker.

“I found this in a box in the closet and wanted to see if it would still play.”

“Sounds like it does. I haven't heard this version in a while,” Harvey answers.

“‘Dream A Little Dream’ used to be one of my great grandmother’s favorites. Although I think she preferred Ella Fitzgerald's rendition.”

Mikes eyes dart to the pie Harvey is still clutching.

“Did you bring me a gift?” Mike teases.

“What? No. Oh, I mean, not really. A neighbor left it at my doorstep. But I’m willing to share a slice,” Harvey answers, offering up the dish.

“Great, I love pie for breakfast!” Mike grins wide, taking the dish from Harvey.

"Join me for a slice? I think I have unpacked the coffeemaker.”

“Sure,” Harvey answers, feeling lost and found at the same time.

He follows Mike into the kitchen, looking around.

“So Mike, when did you start moving in? You have gotten a lot done,” Harvey inquires, taking a seat at the small table.

Mike pours them both a cup and places a piece of pie in front of each of them. “I had some of the big stuff brought over a few months ago, but me, myself, I started bringing smaller boxes a few days ago. I sure hope I haven't been disturbing you.”

“No. Not at all. Just curious. I hope you like coconut cream pie.”

“Man, I haven't had good coconut cream pie since my grandmother’s. She would make it for me anytime I asked, or if I was having a bad time- which seemed to be all the time,” he laughs. “She raised me after my parents died. After she passed, I was lost. I wandered around, did some things I probably shouldn't have. But recently, I started having these strange dreams.”

Harvey has been staring. He still can't get over the way Mike looks in _this_ time. Same blond hair, thin, but a tad more lean muscle, and the same gorgeous blue eyes. Harvey’s ears perk up when he hears Mike mention strange dreams.

Mike pauses then. “Sorry, I have been rambling, haven't I?”

“No, it's fine. Really. You said you have been having strange dreams?”

“Yes. I kept dreaming of this place. Night after night, I would dream about being back here, although I really don't remember us living here very long. But whatever the reason, the message was clear; I needed to get my shit together. So that's when I decided to come back here, to come home.”

Mike takes a breath, along with a bite of pie and his eyes glaze over.

“Oh my God, this tastes as good as my Grammy's!” he exclaims.

Harvey smiles. “Keep the rest.” He starts to stand, feeling the need to run, to get away. But before he can, his curiosity gets the better of him, so he sits back down.

“Mike, what was your grandmother’s name, if you don't mind me asking.”

“No, not at all,” he answers, shoving more pie into his mouth. “It was Edith, Edith Ross.”

Its then that Harvey knows all of this is connected. He finishes his pie, not sure of what to do next. Mike breaks the silence.

“Harvey, do you believe in fate?” Mike asks, the question seemingly coming out of nowhere.

“If you would have asked me that a month or so ago, I would have told you no. Today, I am not so sure.”

Mike smiles, reaching out to place his hand upon Harvey’s. “Maybe you should.”

“Maybe,” Harvey answers, his voice soft.

They stay like that for a moment, saying nothing and everything. Harvey’s phone buzzes in his pocket, breaking the spell. Mike removes his hand as Harvey pulls out his phone-the office. He clicks ignore, but knows its time for him to go. Harvey stands.

“I should go. It was real nice meeting you, Mike.”

“It was nice meeting you too, Harvey”, Mike says, getting up to walk with him to the door.

Harvey pauses when he reaches the edge of the apartment, feeling like he is missing something, something important. He turns back to look at the man who in another time, sacrificed himself for love.

“I’m glad you came home,” Harvey murmurs softly, unable to stop the words from escaping from a place he can't recognize. He has no idea what made him say it, but it doesn't matter. Especially after a flicker of something passes through those blue eyes that are staring at him intently.

“I will always come home to you,” Mike answers, a soft smile on his lips.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> And Done!!! Happy Halloween!!! I have been trying to pull out a ghost story for months. What a perfect time to finally have it come to fruition. Its a hot mess, but just made it under the wire for the latest Marvey Fic Challenge- flashback. Thanks to Novemberhush for reading while I typed to make sure it made some sort of sense.  
> Catch me on tumblr @sairyn-noc


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